Solstice: Beginning of the End
by Elle Wolfe
Summary: Bella's Guidance counselor offers her a chance to participate in an exchange student program to Ben Nevis: a town in Scotland rated as the cloudiest place in the world and home to the tallest mountain in Britain. What secrets does this misty haven hide?
1. Chapter 1

_**And that which I did press to love**_

_**I learn to hate, despise**_

_**When echoed in the prisms **_

_**Of your frozen topaz eyes**_

_Emptiness_...The word bears no meaning until it happens; the inevitable death that all of us face. The insubstantial but inexorable void which turns and spins and hisses like a vacuum, slowly drawing you in deeper until your lungs collapse under the pressure.

I have experienced emptiness, an emptiness so complete that I hardly survived. I was a shell, a mottled dehydrated carapace of some colorful beetle scuttling off into the sun. But I did not remain that way. Never! I felt life, love even. There were stars in the night my life had become, _small points of light and reason. _But I never saw the sun... not even after the last of many deaths...

Now, as I lay dying, in the very place where I first truly experienced love, I can only remember how it started, where my story ends and yours begins:

That day was the first in many deaths.

And now when I think about it, it did feel like drowning. I remember not being able to breath for fear of living, for fear of realizing the truth in the words shrouded in the velvet of his perfect voice and trickling out of his mouth like little drops of liquid gold.

Every word was a tidal wave of pain, cresting and breaking over my injured heart. He was so cool as he said it, so unaffected as if he did not realize the agony each syllable he pronounced caused me. And when he left I felt nothing. Not the frozen rain on my skin, not the mud squelching beneath my feet, not even the feeble reverberations of my heart pointlessly thumping against its cage.

I wanted to hate him, to loathe him for what he had stolen from me. I willed myself to tear at his marble chest, to slap his porcelain face; but I could not bring myself to do it. I loved him so completely... he was too perfect. His eyes of topaz with the shadows of mahogany fires smoldering in their warm depths. His beautifully untidy shock of auburn hair swept to in fro in the dusky wind. His face, that of a demi-god of greek fable, or a mythical hero; only more gorgeous because he was real and he _was_ mine. I wanted so badly to hate him, but it was impossible.

For the best part of me, my heart, the part that hates and loves and feels, the part that belonged to him, had died and faded away into the reflection of the moon in the rain drops speckling upon his perfect porcelain skin.

--

I suppose you could call it living. I ate, I slept, I combed my hair. If I was asked a question I would answer, but I didn't feel. It's hard to describe it to tell you the truth. I guess it's kind of like that feeling you get when you've been out it the cold for too long. Your hands are so cold that they're numb, but underneath the numbness there's this pulsing heat, burning, and it hurts like hell but at the same time you can't really feel it because you're so numb. When you try to warm it up it burns even more, unless of course you have frostbite (in which case your hands will simply be amputated)

I guess you could say I was in the amputee stage. I was numb for so long that I had forgotten how to feel. I had simply cut out and discarded the part of me that had grown numb, which was most of me.

I tried my best to keep up appearances for Charlie so that he wouldn't worry. Even though my life had been destroyed he didn't deserve to suffer. His dinner was never gourmet, but it made it to the table every night tasting decent. My school work got done. It was never stellar, never inspired, but it was enough to keep me up to a B+ average, pretty good for someone without a heart I would say.

Despite my proficiency in school, my instructors had noticed a difference in me. They often tried to put me in groups with more talkative kids to try and make me interact with others. Sometimes they asked me whether I'd like to see the guidance counselor. Neither of these plans really worked. My Forks friends had long since accepted my sudden semi-comatose approach to life and had given up trying to cheer me up.

On the other hand, I actually enjoyed guidance counselor meetings. Our guidance counselor was a women named Jan White. She was considered sophisticated by the easily impressed small-town standards of Forks, having attended college in New England and lived a year in France. She had a kind of generic patrician beauty to her that comes from years of careful breeding and Madame LeBouf's charm school; with impeccably groomed blond hair and fair skin. She always wore pearls around her neck and a plastic smile on her face revealing her 500 veneers.

The meetings normally followed the same pattern. Ms. White would come and get me during Science or English Lit. or some other class and take me to her office. She would attempt to make small-talk along the way, which I would ignore, and soon her superfluous chitchat would melt into the sound of my sneakers softly padding against the damp tile floor and the clack-clack-clack of her heels along side me.

When we get to her office she closes the door and puts on her glasses. She sits behind her desk and gets out a paper and pen which, I assume, she will use to take notes on our "conversation". She smiles beatifically and motions for me to sit across from her in a small navy blue plastic chair.

She interrogates me. Since I don't really listen to what she says, I have a running game going on where I try to say yes and no at appropriate times in the conversation as many times as I can before she notices my lack of attention. My record is 12 times.

Pretty soon she gives up and tells me to go back to class; her head held in her hands in exasperation and annoyance.

I assumed that nothing would ever happen at these meetings, to me they were just an excuse to get out of class. Little did I know that my next meeting with Ms. White would change my life forever... and it would all start with two little words:

Ben Nevis

--

**Thanks for reading! This chapter is a bit slow because I'm introducing the circumstances and stuff... But I promise it'll get exciting FAST! I've got lost of new awesome characters and plot twists lined up as long as I get a good response. Remember we write for you to read so rate and appreciate. Constructive criticism is much obliged but bear in mind that this is my first ever fanfic...hopefully not my last!**

**xox**

**Elle**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I am obviously not Stephanie Meyer, so these awesome, wicked, cool, beautiful, amazing, great, characters don't belong to me. Bummer.

**--**

**Traversing plains and stormy seas**

**If only to escape;**

**Flee from the dread nightmarish dream,**

**And finally awake.**

In a matter of seconds she had bridged the distance between us, coming from behind her desk to kneel in front of me at eye level. I hadn't noticed her move. I never really paid attention to her during these meetings so I let out a small gasp of suprise when she touched my hand, her looking up into my downcast ashen eyes with a look of concern.

"Bella," she said patting my hand, "Bella did you listen to anything I just said, anything at all"

"Huh?" I mumbled blearily. Although I hadn't been sleeping I was about as close as you could get to it without being face-down on a desk drooling with your eyes shut, "I'm sorry I just..."

Ms. White stood up and looked at me appraisingly, shaking her head all the while. She smoothed out her skirt and sat on the desk opposite me, an unusually casual move for one I thought to be so prim and proper.

"We haven't really been on the same page at all Bella, have we?"

I smiled weakly.

"Do you want the polite answer or the truthful one?" I asked tentatively.

Ms. White laughed and clapped her hands over her lap.

"I'm a big girl. I think I can handle the truth."

"These past three months. I haven't paid attention to any of our meetings, I just used them as an excuse to get out of class."

I braced myself for whatever angry outburst would follow my declaration, but I was suprised to receive a quite different reaction.

"I assumed as much," she said smiling sadly, "It's been rough for you hasn't it..."

It wasn't so much a question as it was a stated truth. Heavy and sinister it hung in the still damp air, and for at least a minute neither of us spoke. The only sounds in the office was the soft rumbling of the ventilator and the raindrops pattering against the window behind drawn venetian blinds.

"Hard!" I thought, "Try hellish!"

Throughout the silence Ms. White fiddled with the hem of her skirt and her pearl necklace, as if she was waiting for me to finally answer her question. When she realized I had no intention of doing this she looked at her watch.

"Well we haven't got much time left Bella ma' dear," she said, her tone artificially chipper, "And since we're being honest with each other now and turning a new leaf, I have a little proposal for you!"

As she said this she rummaged through a slew immaculately filed and color coded folders. From a pink folder emerged the product of her toils. A small pamphlet which appeared to be some sort of a travel brochure and a stack of forms.

Ms.White returned to her position behind the mahogany desk but she remained standing fanning the brochure and forms on the surface of the desk and motioning to them as she spoke.

"Now Bella, we both know that you've been depress--" she quickly caught herself, noting the finality in the word she was preparing to use, "I mean, you haven't been yourself lately, and I think it would be good for you to have a bit of a change of pace so to speak."

I was skeptical.

"What do you mean? It's the middle of the school year. I can't just go on vacation!"

She continued, unfazed by my angry outburst.

"Which leads me to my next point:"

As she said this she held up the brochure. On the cover it said "International Student-Leader Convention: Fort William" and displayed pictures of happy students rock climbing kayaking and performing other various forms of outdoor activities, all smiling cheerfully.

"You have been selected to represent Forks high school at this years International Student Leader convention in Scotland."

I stared at her in open shock. Was this some kind of joke? Who in their right mind would choose me to go to this type of thing? Me, a virtually comatose, unremarkable, nobody. I wasn't the smartest or the funniest or the best looking. What was she getting at?

"You can't be serious!"

"I am," she said smirking, "And you should be honored! Just think about it, flying to Scotland, participating in all sorts of fun outdoorsy stuff, meeting new exciting kids from all over the world... I know a bunch of kids here would kill to have this opportunity!"

"Give it to them then!" I yelled shoving the papers at her.

I couldn't believe my ears. I wanted to kill whoever's idea this had been. I didn't want to go on some outdoor excursion. I'm so accident prone that I'd probably end up impaling myself on a kayak paddle or fall off of some cliff. For most people outdoor sports are dangerous, but for me they're deadly. As Edward used to say, I'm a magnet for trouble.

And then there's the whole Edward thing. I cringed in pain at the thought of him. Even though I was supposed to be 'moving-on' I still harbored this insane hope that somehow he would come back for me, and I would be whole again. Leaving Forks would mean there was no turning back, no chance that I would be reunited with Edward.

The thought was liberating in a way, I thrilled at the idea of leaving everything behind, starting anew... but my brief feelings of freedom were quickly overcome by the sickness accompanying the thought of never seeing Edward again. I

"I'm sorry Ms. White, I just can't do this."

I picked up the brochure and ran my fingers over the dates of the convention.

"It says here that the convention starts in three days. That's not nearly enough time to pack and prepare, not to mention that finals are in less than a week. I really appreciate the offer but Charlie would never agree to this on such short notice, and besides I can't just leave him hear alone, he'd starve to death."

I smiled weakly and then started to head for the door.

"And besides, we both know I don't deserve this trip, there are much better student leaders here in Forks. Thanks for the talk, I really enjoyed it."

Before I could leave Ms. White positioned herself between me and the door. Her persistence was surprising. Her face was stern but not unkind and as she spoke her words were laced with a sincerity that was a bit off-putting.

"Look Bella, I've tried to be nice about this but I'm going to cut to the chase. You weren't the first person picked for this program, Angela was. She's in your grade, you're friends with her right?"

I nodded in agreement, my expression colored by equal parts embarrassment and shock.

"Well her family is going through tough times in the money department and they weren't going to be able to pay for her plane ticket. Now Angela suggested that since she couldn't go that we extend the offer to you so that you could, and I quote, 'get away from whatever was bugging you' here."

Typical Angela, too good for her own good.

"We've already spoken to Charlie about it and he's thrilled. All of the expenses have been taken care of, it's just a matter of you agreeing to go."

For the third time in less than an hour I was shocked speechless. Angela, Charlie, and Ms. White had been keeping this secret from me for this long?

I guess Ms. White took my surprised silence as a declination because she began her persuasive speech again.

"Bella, I'm not going to beg you to go to this, but there's something I want you to know. Your suffocating yourself. You might not notice it now, but all those memories, all of those painful, joyful little moments stored in the back of your mind. Those are pressing in on you from all sides and there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. Your fading away, we've all noticed it; Charlie, Me, Angela, all of us. We've tried our best to help you out, but whatever happened- _whoever_ broke your heart has got you so messed and broken that there's nothing any of us can do but sit back and watch you run yourself into the ground,"

A single tear escaped my eye and Ms. White smiled, knowingly brushing it away with hands scented with Chanel No. 5.

"You see? I'm right aren't I?"

I shook my head in confirmation. Ms. White took my face into her smooth cool hands.

"We're doing this because we care for you. Even if you don't care for yourself right about now. I'm not asking you to agree to go right now, but think about it. Think about the piece of mind it would give Charlie, and the happiness it would give Angela. If you don't go for yourself, Go for them Bella."

She opened her office door to let me out into the hallway. Students were milling about avoiding going to their next class. Ms. White clasped my shoulder.

"We love you Bella, and your suffocating yourself. There's nothing for you here in Forks until you get better. We're afraid that you'll wake up one morning and not be able to breath."

As I pulled the truck into the driveway, I looked at the brochure. Somehow Ms. White had coerced me into taking one at the end of the day. The town was beautiful with pedestrian areas lined with old fashioned shops. The surrounding country was impossibly green and lush, but not in the alien Forks way. In the background, the mountain Ben Nevis sat majestic and sinister in the distance.

"I've always wanted to go to Scotland," I thought.

--

**A/N: Hey you! Thanks for reading. This chapter is kinda slow but believe me it WILL get better. You're just going to have to keep on reading! Ava-Night: your the only reason I wrote this chapter! Thanks so much for your positive feedback, you rock!**

**I hope the next chapters are entertaining, I have a few tricks up my sleeve ;)**

**xox**

**Elle**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Am I Stephanie Meyer? Are you Gandhi? No? I thought not. These characters aren't mine so read the frikken story already! kthxbi

**--**

4,450 miles... The thought was staggering in it's vastness; in less than an hour I would be 4,450 miles away from everything and everyone I'd ever known or loved in the world: the place I'd learned to call home, the people I'd learned to live with, the man I'd grown to love and who in turn had crippled my heart. Now oceans would separate me from those things, and I hoped, very fervently, that somehow, better, greater things lie on the emerald shore of my destination: Scotland.

I would be lying If I said that I wasn't excited, if I wasn't at least a little bit relieved at getting away from the oppressive gloom of Forks for two weeks. I had never been outside of the continental US before, and the idea of visiting _Europe_ was irresistible. As we neared our destination I reread the description of Fort William on the programs brochure:

_Hello and Welcome to the International Student Leaders Convention Pre-Travel Handbook. Before you embark on the journey of friendship and self discovery that our program provides, you should know a little bit about your host city! Fort William is the largest town in Highland Scotland nestled lovingly between two great lakes: Loch Linnhe and Loch Eil. It has become a tourist center as of late, known for its wealth of outdoor recreation opportunities such as rock climbing, kayaking, and downhill biking, made only more convenient due to its proximity to Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom. Although the bulk of our program is comprised of partaking in these outdoor opportunities (in order to build both psychological and physical confidence), less athletically inclined Student Leaders will enjoy the thriving cultural centers in Fort William such as the 400 year old brewery, and the many shops in Fort William's pedestrian zone. In conclusion, Fort William has something for everyone whether you are the aspiring sommelier, or the next Edmund Hillary! _

Around this cheery description were pictures of what I could only assume were past conventions: kids smiling and kayaking, kids smiling and rock-climbing, kids smiling and sampling some of the wares of the 400 year old brewery. Although the overwhelming happiness of the thing was not exactly my cup of tea I couldn't help but be excited for my trip, finally a chance to forget the past and heal...

"We are now preparing for landing. Please fasten your seat belts, put your tray tables up, and your seat backs in the full upright position. Due to delays we are scheduled to land at 9:00 GMT. On behalf of the crew I apologize for any inconvenience."

My flight had been delayed three hours at Heathrow due to bad weather in Scotland, so now instead of taking a van from Glasgow airport to Fort William with the rest of the students, a Program facilitator would pick me up and drive me individually. This didn't bother me so much as I didn't do well in big group situations, in fact I kind of liked the idea of being one on one with a program facilitator, especially if he was an attractive, young, Scottish facilitator...

I was surprised at my own audacity. To think that just a week ago I would have been physically sick at the thought of being with anyone other than, him - Edward. See! Now I could even think his name without wanting to jump off of the nearest suspension bridge. Maybe Ms. White was right, maybe Forks had been the problem, maybe that was what had been suffocating me all along.

Before I knew it I was exciting the plane and making my way towards customs. Once I had been allowed entry into the country I headed towards the baggage carousel. Despite my excitement I felt a pang of uneasiness clench my stomach. I was one of the .004 of the population who always have baggage problems. Without fail, every flight I had taken had resulted in the loss or destruction of my luggage. On one such occasion I flew from Phoenix to Tucson to visit a family friend and my bag, by some weird sick twist of fate, ended up in Copenhagen. Now, with the pain of that experience still fresh in my mind, I strode, meekly resolute, towards the spinning platform recently enlivened by and orange vested airport worker (I half expected it to start breathing smoke and roaring so great was my fear). To my surprise, my bag was the first to emerge from the black depths of the carousel.

Smiling I checked to make sure my shampoo hadn't exploded or anything had been damaged inside of my bag. All was well, which I took to be a good omen. Tired but happy I walked to the terminal exit of the airport where I had been informed my facilitator would pick me up.

Glasgow was a pretty city there in the twilit fog. All wrapped in mist the streetlamps looked like distant candles, suspended in air like the lights of a fairy kingdom. The air was dense, cool, and damp; fragrant with the smell of early rain. As I stood there in the fog taking in the sights of my new city, I felt a chill run up my spine. Like icy fingertips tracing the crease of my back. The feeling was neither painful nor enjoyable, it simply was. I felt my breathing grow shallow and labored as an unknown fear crept cooly across my skin. What was wrong with me? Who was watching?

I turned around slowly afraid of who I might see behind me.

He approached sauntering with the elegance of a Victorian dandy tempered with the haughty stride of a rock star. He was dressed all in black, from his pointed leather boots to the fedora he wore on his head. Although night had already fallen he wore dark sunglasses.

I wasn't sure whether I should run away, or ask his autograph and volunteer to mother his child. The closer he got to me the more I seemed to lose the ability to think clearly.

"Hello," he said smiling wickedly and removing his fedora in a stately gesture more suited to 18th century Britain than the present situation, "I could only hope to assume that you're Miss Isabella Swann?"

His voice was silky and definitely English. His face was sculpted and clear, almost gaunt, but again in the attractive rock-star kind of way. He smelled of smoke and something else altogether to pleasant.

I gulped and looked around stupidly, as if there were any other Isabella Swanns in the vicinity trying to avoid looking at him for fear of betraying my obvious attraction.

"Ummm yes, yes that's me."

"Good then," he said standing up from his bow.

I don't know how I knew it, but even behind his dark sunglasses I could tell that he was looking me up and down. Even more surprising, I didn't mind.

"I'll be driving you to Fort William, but before we do that I must have a fag. I haven't had one all day you see, and as I'm a terrible dirty addict I simply won't be able to function properly without one, so if you wouldn't be terribly offended-"

"A fag?" I asked incredulously. I knew Scottish culture would be different, but I was really hoping that his idea of a fag and my idea of a fag were not the same thing.

His smile grew wide, so wide that in spite of myself I felt my own face turning out an awkward grin.

"A thousand pardons Miss! I suppose a fag to you yanks would be a cigarette." He chuckled as he took out a small box, "And after that long flight of yours I'm sure you could do with one yourself."

"No thank you. I don't smoke."

"Suit yourself love," he said holding a cigarette paper between perfect and clenched teeth.

I watched in amazement as he deftly and quickly rolled the cigarette, something that until now I had only seen happen in movies. After completing this task he balanced the cigarette on his lip while searching his pockets for a lighter. He then proceeded to light the cigarette and inhale deeply, eyes closed all the while, luxuriating in the pleasure it gave him.

After what seemed like hours he finally exhaled looking out into the night sky, his face unfathomable. I felt myself blush as he looked at me, smiling in satisfaction, obviously noticing the fact that I had been staring at him the entire time.

"So, Isabella Swann. That's a very pretty name you know."

"Thank you."

As he continued to smoke I studied his profile. The refinement of his nose, the raven colored stubble along his chiseled jawline, his neck, the hair shaggy and unkempt swept effortlessly across his forehead. I longed to remove his glasses to see if his eyes were as beautiful as the rest of him...

"So where are you from Miss Swann,"

"What-", he had caught me staring again.

He laughed.

"Let me tell you what; you are obviously tired. Why don't I take you to coffee before we head out? That way I can have another cigarette and you can perk up a little. I can't stand driving with sleeping people...unless of course" he extinguished his cigarette with a small cough, "That person is sleeping with me."

I stood in shock, first due to his open flirtatiousness, and furthermore because he lifted my massive luggage onto his shoulder as if it weighed no less than a bag of flour. He looked much to thin to be as strong as he was. He then took my hand and grinned.

"I know the perfect place."

**A/N:** Please Please Please review! Sorry for the long update. I was in NYC for 10 days so I didn't really have time to write...but the more you guys review the more motivated I am to write. Just think of reviews as like the spinach to my Popeye OK! Bring on the Spinach!!

xoxox

Elle


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer... although I may pretend to be at night in my room when nobody's watching hehe )**

As we walked through the streets of late-night Glasgow, I felt the jealous eyes of every woman we passed. I can't say it was a bad feeling. This man, who was now leading me down Glasgow high-street clutching my hand like a child; there was something irresistible about him. Not necessarily the way he looked, although he was fiendishly attractive. It was more like something that hovered about him, an aura perhaps, an aura that made every women in the general area swoon like they had seen the Beatles circa 1963.

During our walk my mystery driver enumerated the pros and cons of every bar that we passed, which museums and clubs to go to, and where to go after the bars; which were normally seedy looking motels more suited to an Alfred Hitchcock movie than my custom. He was knowledgeable about the city, but as much as he talked I learned little about who this man actually was. I hoped that in the more secluded surroundings of the coffee shop I would learn more about him, or at least his name.

Finally we stopped in front a dimly lit storefront paneled in dark, reddish wood. To me the place looked closed but this did not seem to daunt my beautiful mystery guide.

"Welcome, Miss Swann, to 'The Fort'" as he said this he opened the door with a flourish.

I was immediately taken aback by the overpowering scent of cinnamon on the air that wafted through the open door. The interior of the cafe was lit primarily by thin white candles elegantly housed in faux gold candelabras. Like the exterior, the inside of the place was paneled in dark reddish wood. Most of the tables were free standing and draped with lace tablecloths but in the back of the restaurant there were four booths cozily lit with mock gas lamps. On the walls there hung oil paintings of what could only have been duchesses and dukes of yore. These wall decorations were cleverly juxtaposed with their contemporary counterparts in the form of vintage rock concert posters and autographed pictures of musicians and actors. Along the right wall there was a well stocked bar and a small stage.

However the most opulent feature of 'The Fort' was a massive crystal chandelier hanging above the reception desk. In the candlelight it sparkled with the radiance of a thousand diamonds casting specks of brilliance and rainbow across the ceiling. Unfortunately, the beauty of the chandelier was marred by the scowling face of the receptionist below it. With arms crossed moodily across her chest she appraised me with the unique brand of disgust that I assumed was reserved for American tourists and radioactive waste.

"Are you here for Glen Saget's birthday party?" she said with a sneer

"Um, well, no, you see-"

"I didn't think so. Why don't you just leave, there's a McDonald's not far from here and you can catch it before closing time if you hurry. Now move along!"

My embarrassment manifested itself in five shades of scarlet across my face but as I turned to leave my host spun me around guiding me back up to the reception desk.

"Margo! Have you been troubling Miss Swann here?"

With his presence the receptionist's demeanor changed immediately. Her scowl turned to a coy smile and her hands fell uncrossed to play with her hair.

"Why Wesley! I had no idea she was with you!"

The man who I now knew was called Wesley motioned to the seating area.

"Sit wherever you like Miss Swann and I will be with you shortly."

I selected a small table in the corner of the dining area attempting to make myself as inconspicuous as possible while simultaneously recovering from the embarrassment I had endured just moments before.

After I had settled down a bit I watched Wesley with the receptionist. Like most women Margo was not immune to Wesley's charms although there was a familiarity in their interactions. I watched him smile his wicked smile and play with her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear his hands lightly grazing her thighs. I felt myself begin to flush, this time not with embarrassment, but with jealousy. How could a man I had known for half an hour have this kind of effect on me?

After he slipped my luggage behind the receptionist desk and gave Margo a swift smack on the butt he made his way to the table.

To avoid his gaze I busied myself by reading the menu which he quickly snatched away with a mischievous grin.

He then leaned back in his chair with his feet propped casually on the top of a nearby table. He then removed his hat placing it on my head with a smirk and slid his sunglasses up to the top of his head, squinting adorably at the menu.

His eyes were ice blue. So blue that they didn't look real.

"So what tickles your fancy this night Miss Swann?"

He didn't wait for me to reply.

"Irish Coffee? Excellent choice!" he grinned maniacally and turned around in his seat to yell at Margo, "Two Irish Coffees if you please Margo dearest!"

"But of course Wesley!"

He turned around, laughing at Margo's infatuation with him and his own mischievousness. I couldn't help but join in, he had one of those deep clear laughs that are impossible to frown through.

"So Miss Swann-"

"Please, call me Bella." I said with a confidence I did not know I possessed.

"Very good then," he said smirking. Now with his glasses removed I could see his eyes appraising me. I found myself unconsciously comparing them to Edward's. They were sexy, but not in the same loving, tender, warm, smoldering way that Edward's eyes had been. His eyes were cold fire, predatory, hungry almost, but not in a scary way. Something told me that I wouldn't mind be hunted by him at all...

"So Bella, where exactly are you from?"

"Well, I'm living in Washington state right now in a really small town a few miles north of Seattle-"

"Called?"

"Oh you wouldn't know of it..."

"Try me." he challenged.

"OK then," I said diplomatically, "Forks."

He laughed musically.

"There, I win!"

"You've heard of it?"

"Not only heard of it. I Wesley Alastair Southampton have been to the rainiest city in the US!"

I laughed incredulously

"Wow, hardly anyone outside of Forks knows about Forks!"

He leaned in closer across so near to my face that I could feel the warmth of his smoky breath.

"I think you'll come to find, Miss Swann, that I am not just anyone." He then reached up to move a stray hair that had fallen in my face back behind my ear...but not before placing a small feathery kiss on my earlobe.

The kiss sent tongues of electric fire up my spine and I shivered from the pleasure. Wesley leaned back across the table chuckling and clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me.

Thankfully we were interrupted by Margo with our coffees. I snatched mine away, thankful to have something to occupy myself with to avoid Wesley's gaze. As I timidly sipped my drink Wesley stared at me with unconcealed intensity. Try as I might I could not read any emotion in his frozen eyes.

After fortifying myself with coffee I felt confident enough to try and break the silence.

"So Wesley, I've told you a lot about myself, but I don't know anything about you."

He smiled sardonically.

"Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

"Oh you know," I spoke with a nonchalance I did not feel, "Where are you from, what are you doing here, what do you like to do in your free-time... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Wesley was looking at me with an expression of quiet bemusement, as if there was some joke that I wasn't getting.

"Do I have something on my face?" I looked around for any possible reflective surface in attempts to amend the situation.

"No, no." he giggled, "I was just thinking about how absolutely delectable you look in my hat."

I flushed and averted my eyes. He giggled and then waved his hands in a gesture for me to speak.

"I'm sorry, do continue interrogating me."

I smiled at him in spite of myself.

"Should I answer question number one or seventy-three first."

"Why don't you just forget about the questions and talk about yourself. I'll take what I can get."

He smiled lasciviously.

"Hmmmm, you'll take what you can get. Really? I didn't see you as that kind of girl..."

I gasped in embarrassment and slapped him on the arm playfully. Was I really flirting?

"Ouch! Alright! I was just playing love. Now let me see..." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, carefully ordering his words.

"I'm 21, just got kicked out of music school for indecent conduct-"

I looked at him skeptically.

"Look the people at that school were total wankers, I mean pianos were practically made to have sex on top of!"

I coughed and spit out some of the coffee that I had been drinking in shock. He continued on unaffected by my incredulity.

"I love music, good whiskey, and women and I have been known to kick a football around. Is that good enough for you Miss Swann?"

"Wow, yeah. That's about it isn't it!" I laughed nervously, "But what I'm still wondering is why are you working for this Student Leadership thing? No offense but you don't seem like the "International Student-Leader Convention" type."

"You're a smart one aren't you! Well to tell you the truth I'm not the 'International Student Leader Convention" type. I got roped in to volunteering for it because my uncle is one of the organizers."

"I still don't quite follow."

"Well when I got kicked out of music school my mother was annoyed, to say the least. Since she could no longer brag about me attending," he mimicked his mother's voice in an annoyingly high pitched falsetto, "'the premier music school in Britain' she had no reason to keep paying for my posh little Camden flat. Since I couldn't very well go on living in London without a job or any kind of means of supporting myself I begged my mother for mercy. Here I'll show you"

He got down on his knees in front of me to act out the scene:

"'Mother' I said, 'We both know I am your favorite son, and we also know that I refuse to get a job. If you do not help me, I will not hesitate to hang myself from your beloved Swarovski Crystal chandelier."

"So what did she say?"

He got up and returned to his seat, brushing the dust from his fitted jeans. As he stood I noticed how tall he was.

"She gave me an ultimatum. I could apply for college in Switzerland under the watchful eye of my father or I could work for my Uncle until she was able to coerce my school into taking me back."

"So you chose the second option."

"Right you are Bella my dear, and that is how I am now here with you in Glasgow sipping coffee in this veritable jewel of an eatery!"

He laughed a humorless laugh and then fell into an uncharacteristic brooding.

"It's getting late and my uncle will have my head for taking you out. I think we'd better leave."

As disconcerting as his sudden change in mood was, I was in my own world. The coffee had really woken me up.

"Nooooo Wesley! hiccup Don't leave! You've barely had any of your coffee!"

Wesley looked at me and half smiled.

"Let's go Bella dear, there'll be plenty of time for fun once we get to Fort William and you've had a good night's rest."

I stood up and attempted to saunter over to him seductively, knocking over chairs and candles and running into partygoers. Once I was in front of Wesley I grabbed the lapels of his blazer and pulled him toward me.

"But I want to have fun now."

Wesley whistled in surprise, grabbing me by the shoulders and sitting me down in a chair. The bartender chuckled.

"Looks like the girly there enjoyed her coffee Wes."

"Shut up Cecil you old dog!" Wesley snapped, "Look Bella, you stay right here while I go and pay OK?"

I nodded and hiccuped.

I tried to focus on sitting upright in the seat, but all of a sudden everything felt warm. Then I blacked out.

**A/N: Sorry about the abrupt ending guys! I had to churn this one out in a day since I wanted to update before I go on vacation. I'm leaving for Prague tomorrow so I won't be able to write for a few days! Ava: thank you so much for your kind words! Even though NO-ONE else reviews I know that at least your reading lol! PLEASE review guys! You don't know how encouraging it is! The next chapter should be interesting so stay tuned. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**xox**

**Elle**


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